With the arrival of Peak Oil, the curtain has closed on Act 1 of the drama Petroleum Man. What will happen in Act 2? Chekhov said, "If there's a gun on the wall at the beginning of the play, by the end it must go off." In the world's nuclear arsenal are many guns on the wall. If life copies art, will there be an Act 3 in which the players, having learned their lesson the hard way, live sustainably? To explore these and other questions... FTW's Act 2 Blog. Read, comment, take heart! Orkin

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

Mike's Story Part 66 - Leaving

If we’re going to go out or have another real conversation before he leaves, it’s got to be today.Sunday night is Sixty Minutes and Monday night I work.

I had to work this morning too but I’ve left the afternoon clear, turning down an opportunity to teach another class, in case Mike wants to have a "last supper" together or see a movie.

I don’t raise the subject, however.My purpose is not to go out per se; it’s cold and I’m tired. I want to get a sense of where his mind is.

He doesn’t mention anything but goes about his business, puttering between the TV in the bedroom and the kitchen, passing me at the computer without a word.

At seven, he puts on his coat.

“I need to get out.I’m going to see what’s playing on Court Street.”

And so he goes.

This confirms what I already know: To him, I am little more than a mirror that gives him back the image of a man who is accepted; a sounding board that responds with reasonable counsel.Mirrors and sounding boards do what they do because it is their nature, their function in life.They are not so needy nor so deserving of attention as he is.They have not suffered as he has.Or if they have, he doesn’t want to know about it for they are certainly not so interesting.

Twenty minutes later he’s back.

“There was nothing I wanted to see.”

We watch On the Beach, the new one, which he says is crappy.

I agree.I’m most put off by the omnipresent Waltzing Matilda theme that metamorphoses cornily according to the mood of the scene.

But it’s hard to maintain one’s cynicism when the fate of the people in the movie so uncomfortably reflects where the real world is heading today, which is the reason he'd wanted us to watch it together.

Towards the end, the young wife weeps at the imminent death of her family, including her young child, by radiation or preemptive pill.

"Get over it, Bitch," says Mike.Then, figuring I might not feel the same, he says, "Sorry."

Tuesday morning

The time has come.

“Whatever’s left in the closet, you can have.I can’t fit anything else into this suitcase."

He puts down his bags - the carry-on and the behemoth - to hug me.“Good-bye, Moofie.”

I cry, thank God.

“You saved my life.” He cries also, redeeming himself for Saturday night.For a few seconds we hold each other.